


Wolves in the Night(Shed Your Skin and Run Free)

by valiantprincex



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, I'm not sure where I'm going with this AT ALL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantprincex/pseuds/valiantprincex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah and Helena Werewolf AU. Will involve multiple other clones-but-not-clones. Multi-chapter</p><p>Werewolves, so like gore warning?<br/><em><br/><span>Sarah awoke with the sunrise, still spinning from the night before. Her head pounded with nausea and she rolled over, retching up the contents of her stomach. She caught sight of what she had thrown up, turned her head away in disgust.. Sarah dry heaved into the forest floor, the only thoughts spinning through her fogged consciousness were: </span><br/><em>oh shit not again.</em></em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> school's starting soon so updates will be slow and painful(I also love indenting paragraphs but they don't carry over from Google docs and I'm so tired and have to finish summer hw so bear with me)
> 
> This version of Werewolf AU is so different from my [other one](http://another-variation.tumblr.com/post/93286616136/chasing-moonlight). , so just like keep that in mind. No fluffy were's here. Also wtf is up with the title

Sarah awoke with the sunrise, still spinning from the night before. Her head pounded with nausea and she rolled over, retching up the contents of her stomach. She caught sight of what she had thrown up, turned her head away in disgust.. Sarah dry heaved into the forest floor, the only thoughts spinning through her fogged consciousness were:  _oh shit not again._

She tore through her memories of the past night, trying to piece together at least some string of events .  She had been drinking. She had been drinking a lot. And there was a guy. There was( _was_ ) a guy, Victor, she had been kissing him, slammed against the side of the bar, she had been kissing him and - the memory played on a loop, she couldn't remember anything past shoving her hands up his shirt, his lips on her neck and - she coughed again, a chunk of redness lodged in her  throat. She didn't want to know what it was. She didn't have a choice.

 [[MORE]]

She cursed and shoved herself off the ground, there was blood coating her hands, blood stinging the roof of her mouth, the taste burning pleasantly into her tongue. Sarah followed the trail of blood to the source, heart knocking against her ribcage. She found him lying in a clearing and had to turn away, bite her lip at the sight of his torn carcass; she fought down the nausea long enough to grab her clothes - and his wallet - before running.

Sarah tore fast and smooth through the trees, body leading her like a memory. She stopped at a pool of crystal clear water, and immediately thrust herself into it, scrubbing away the worst of the blood. She rubbed her skin raw, tried to tear herself from the stain of it before giving up, throwing her clothes back on and heading into town. She dripped red water behind her, the pool now a mess of deep dark blood. 

She crept slowly through the streets, hoping the lazy town was just waking up. It was already abuzz with news however, and she heard the shouts and whispers as she slid through the streets. A man had been killed, the rumors said, a man has been killed, ripped apart and left for the crows.  _Police are on their way_ they said,  _the Feds are on their way_ they said, i _t was aliens, it was a monster, it was a government conspiracy, it was a wolf_ . Sarah shuddered as she paced the bus stop,  _run, keep running never stay still._

The bus driver gave her a long hard look as he sold her the ticket; she imagined him staring into her soul, her memory, imagined him seeing the blood in her hands, under her nails, heart shaking in her chest she handed over a crumpled bill. He looked down, handed it to her, turned away. Told her to be wary. Be wary of wolves.

* * *

Sarah's feet landed in the city in time with the bell toll: six o'clock. She stumbled at first, the rush and light a shock after the small town, the endless parade of beds and blood. Her instincts - as old and buried as they were - roared back to life, stealing her a newspaper, some child's bagel. The headline read some shit about a man dead, some shit about him being only the latest in a long line of kills, and here Sarah stopped and shuddered, earning her a wary look from a young mother of two, her hands gripping tightly to the stroller as she sped her step. Sarah turned her attention back to the paper, but it was yesterday's, and she needed new news.

Sarah smiled her way into a bar, keeping the TV within her sights as she slid into a booth. The reporter droned on, pictures of a bloody coat, a bloodily field, a name dancing across the brightly lit screen.

"Can I get you something? Coffee?"

She started, pulled out of her thoughts, "Just tea," the reporter wasn't saying anything about who the killer was, she just kept saying a name. The Ripper.

"Hey haven't I seen you here before? Punk rock nights, I wasn't working here then, just came for the music?"

Sarah looked at him, long and hard, couldn't place his features. Everyone blurred together if you ran long enough, everyone was the same: someone you'd rather forget. "Long time ago. I haven't been back since-" and she could still taste the blood, that first dawn, no she hasn't been back, well, back  home  since she started waking with flesh caught in her teeth, "-since a long time ago."

"Well it's nice to have you again, Sarah was it?"

She nodded, thought about the identities folded into her jacket pocket, different names different histories but all the same smiling face. She returned to her thoughts, letting the world lull behind her, let herself feel her breath moving, invigorating. Though not as intoxicating as-," Thanks," the waiter had returned with her tea, the ceramic warming her hand. She quickly folded her fingers into her palm, it wouldn't do for him to see her sharp cracked nails that just an hour before she had finally cleaned of blood.

"The Ripper strikes again, huh."

"I guess," Sarah's lip twitched hungrily, she lifted the cup to still herself, "Why do they call him-," _me_ , why do they call  _me_ , "-The Ripper anyway?" Sarah shivered, all her unspoken questions coiling and teasing under her tongue,  _why am I a killer_.

"Wow, you have been gone for a while, first murder happened what, ten years ago?"  _Eleven_ , Sarah's brain corrected,  _eleven_ , " yeah. So guy turns up in some alley, ripped apart. At first they think it's some kind of animal, a freak accident. But then it happens again, and again. Too much to just be some animal. We here saw The Ripper's first kills," Sarah fought the urge to spit at him in disgust, at the pride he swelled with, "but he moved. The Ripper's been everywhere." He grinned, "It's always dudes, usually in their twenties to thirties. Same type of kill too, and - hey Beth!" The waiter turned to wave at a woman entering the bar. 

She was dressed formally, and had an air of bone-tiredness swirling about her, but Sarah couldn't name her feeling of unease, even after she saw the woman's badge. A cop. There was a dull glint too, a gun, and Sarah could feel the woman, Beth's, eyes widen at the sight of her. The waiter continued however, oblivious the the lightning tension that crackled the air, "Beth here's the lead on the case, moved here a couple years ago. And-"

"Thanks." Sarah interjected, slapping a five dollar bill on the table, "Thanks for the tea and the company but I've got an appointment to get to." She felt the cops eyes drilling into her back as she practically ran out the door, seeing through her disguise. Wrong time. Wrong time wrong place why did she come back why no run, run run, never stop. The city had been her home, long ago, but she didn't deserve it. Not anymore.

The city stirred up old memories, Sarah could still taste the deep rich intoxicating presence of old blood. She used to wonder, wonder if she was being framed, wondered if someone was following her, wondered if she was crazy. She never knew, and she stopped wondering  why after snapping back to herself elbow deep in some poor boy's stomach, she stopped wondering why and set her sights on running.  Run .

Sarah stayed. Sarah stayed even though every bone was screaming for her to leave. She thought of her family, sometimes, become hating herself for doing so. She didn't have a family. She cut those ties eleven years ago with blood still dripping from her teeth. 

She crashed below the highway, baring her fangs and fists to whoever threatened her existence.  Soon, Sarah settled into a familiar rhythm, monotony settling in her bones, steadying her heart.

* * *

Blood in the air. Helena lifted her head, drawing in the pungent taste, feeling her lungs sing with the joy of it. Someone died here. This she knew, knew before she arrived, knew as soon as she caught the scent of old blood drifting in the wind. The blood summoned her. Not the fresh blood, though that spun her head and lighted her consciousness; Helena was summoned by old blood, the ghost of a presence. Prey. A deep part of her regretted that they had carried the body away, but an even deeper, even stronger part of her was thankful that the old sent was allowed to prosper, free from the coat-shield covering of newly shed life.

She had been chasing her prey for a long time, long-time, since forever. That was what the Father said, anyway, said it was her Holy Duty, he said, Holy Duty to hunt the monster. And so she did. Helena caught a glimpse of it, once, a roaring mass of a demon, claws sharp and eyes rolling. She loped back to town, tracing the path the ghost-sent wove, Tomas waiting for her return, “Was it here?”

Helena nodded, silent, climbing into the passenger seat of his bid dark van. She rolled down the window breathing in, felling the taste wrap around soul, “It ran again, Tomas.” She listened to the wind, closed her eyes, felt the beat of her heart pound pounding in her chest. Helena lifted her arm, pointed south, “It went home.” The word hit her chest like a bullet, like finality, like the end of a long long road.

The locals stared as they drove through, the van was old and scratched, the back windows nonexistent, “ _For when we catch it_ ,”  Tomas had said, though she didn’t care. Helena would find the beast,  her  beast, Tomas could take care of the rest. She locked eyes with them, they all smelled the same, same as Tomas, same as the Father, nothing more than prey, but not Helena’s prey, sheep, not like the beast that pulled at the strings of her heart.

She reached into her bag,, fingering the bullets that shone bright as moonlight. She had five in her bag, five, one for each limb and one to end it all, though that was saved for Tomas’ hand. The metal lay cold in her palm, burning, tingling. Helena imagined it tearing through her own flesh and blood, imagined it pinning down her beast. Tomas told her there were more, the Father told her there were more,  but she can’t hunt the beasts; Helena has her sights on only one. The Beast.

They rode in silence, sky lighting up then softening, darkening, flowing into a mass of run colors and shades. Tomas stopped for the night and they camped at the side of the highway in the shadow of the van. Helena fiddled with her bullets, warmed by the fire, the metal reflecting the dancing light onto the dark scene before her. She felt how the bullets seemed to burn her fingers, burn hotter and wilder as the night wore on. She looked down at her hand, mesmerized as her silver bullet seared red and raw into her palm.

* * *

Sarah glitched back to her body tasting iron and a mem ory of pleasure that chilled her to the bone. She pushed herself off the concrete, hands slip sliding on the black tar dyed red. It was night, the sun had yet to show it's face yet the city didn't sleep. Not really. Sarah stumbled to her feet, stumbled through the streets, stumbled to a bathroom, didn't meet her reflection's gaze as she spun the water from the tap. She spat out blood from between her teeth, ignoring the tingle that traced her spine, the way her fingers spasmed at the taste. She stilled her aching fingers, scraping and clawing her skin.

She heard a yell outside, a fumbling for the door and slipped quickly into a stall, still wet fingers sliding on the latch, heard the door open, waited for the shriek at the sight of blood. She heard panting, mumbling, moaning, heard him grunt, lift the girl onto the sink, spied through the crack her hands reaching to his neck, their eyes still closed. She suppressed a laugh, the absurdity of it all,  _her life was at stake, bloody hell_ _,_ she had memories, so many, memories of bathrooms, sinks, rough hands and hard lips. Sarah snapped back to the present, knew this was the time and slammed out the stall door, slammed out the bathroom with barely a twitch from the writhing couple. 

Sarah was halfway down the block before she heard the shriek, the rush for the door, the yell for  _police_ . She ran. Feet pounding through alleyways, side streets, anywhere the street lights shrank from.  The city was large, the city had places to hide. But Sarah Manning didn’t hide. She left, ran, abandoned. She missed the small towns, missed their escapability. The city simply stretched out before her in it's enormity. Anonymity. 

A boy, just a boy with his friend saw her, opened his mouth, and Sarah prepared to strike, strike like a predator, she was ready, she was done, she would  _kill_ for herself. His laugh ripped the air and he slumped into his friend, drunk, drunk enough lean over, retching into the lap his head was lying in. His friend's eyes widened, laughed about the twinkling stars, the alligator in the gutter, the spiraling colors in the sky. Sarah felt a sigh of relief as he laughed again, a high shrill sound, his finger crooked at her, telling her how pretty those winges of her’s were, shining, glowing in the night.

She found herself at the train station, pacing back and forth, back and forth, to the end and back again. Escape. The train would come, had to, had to come to carry her away. There were lonely souls on the platform, an old man trapped in his own thoughts, a young woman too terrified of Sarah's bloody visage to challenge her. She saw movement in the corner of her vision, a woman,  _Beth_ , Beth with her badge and her gun and her - Sarah broke into a run, ramming past the police officer, running for the streets. Her instincts wavered, something about Beth made her want to stop, turn, to rip apart or greet with open arms. Sarah pushed down the feelings, slapping her instincts, pounding through the empty streets.

Footsteps sounded behind her, loud, insistent, fast too fast and Sarah had never raced one who could best her. Sarah swerved, tried to dodge, Beth's hand reached out with surprising straw nth, pushing her to the ground. Sarah rose, eyes blazing only to be slammed into the alley dumpster, Beth's hands like iron and fingers hooked, claws. Sarah struggled, pinned to the wall and - no,  no this was wrong,  _so wrong_ ,  Beth had seized her wrist, pulled it out from her, tasting the edge. Sarah jerked, tried to free herself, but Beth's eyes were wide, shining, her tongue sliding on the edge of Sarah's jacket cuff, tasting the still wet blood. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, "You're the one," her grip tightened, grin widening, "you're my Ripper."


	2. In the Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a connection dances teasingly just at the tips of Helena's fingers, and Sarah meets some new aquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a thing.

Dawn rose angry, clouds painted in violent brushstrokes across the rising sun. Helena woke with a start, mind scrambling to keep up with the turn of the earth, her body cramped and warm. The fire was out. The fire was out and Helena, despite the scratch in her throat and the sweat on her brow, was chilled to the bone. She struggled up, her green coat had been spread over her like a blanket and she pulled it on, ignoring the ache at the bases of her fingers and the still wet blood clotting slowly under her nails. She gasped as the jacket slipped on, hit her shoulder blades, and she winced at the pain of old scars torn open anew. 

She remembered asking Tomas once, long ago, asking why her back was scraped and clawed and scarred. He said she had been set upon by a beast, that was why she was chosen. He had said that was why she could feel the beast’s presence, see the ghost trails left in the dust. He told her to never mind the blood in her nails, never mind the prickling in her neck, said she has slipped at night, lashed out at some tree in the fit of a nightmare. 

He handed her a bottle of water before closing the back of their van, his brow stained with sweat as he worked on the lock. “Let’s go, Helena,” and as she passed the locked doors a chill stung at her scars. She shook it off, there were more important things to be done, for the beast had killed again. The van rumbled with a tired whine as Tomas started the ignition, the sun glinting off the windshield as they pulled onto the highway.

“New blood.” Helena’s voice rasped in her throat. She felt a familiar tug at the pit of her stomach, a slight pain at her neck. Tomas slapped her hand away as she reached to touch it, and she turned ,“ It’s still there, keep going.”

They drove in silence, the city looming before them like a second sunrise.  Helena’s heart quickened as the scent grew stronger, thicker.  Intoxicatingly thick as she breathed in, it clogged her mouth and raised the hairs on her neck. She could sense fresh blood, a new kill, but it had changed from a trickle to a flood and her hands shook as the tide rolled over her, drowning her, pulling her under. 

She didn’t notice the van slowing until Toman nudged her to get out and she did, stumbling on the streets as raw hunger gnawed at her chest. Deeper and stronger than she had ever felt before, as if she did not know her hunger until she was presented with a feast. It taunted her, tantalizing on her tongue, it was near, her beast.

Tomas pulled her through the streets, Helena was too dazed by the sudden mass of sense, sent,  _feeling_ to do anymore than stare. In these streets Helena could feel old blood, older than she had ever felt before, a distant memory that didn’t quite belong to her. She snarled, almost, as she could feel her heart pumping faster as she caught the layers. Years. Years and years the beast had prowled these streets, why had she not found it before? It was old, years old, overlaid by a return; the beast was here long ago as it was now, it grew here and Helena felt long dead possibility, anger, and an ache in her chest that felt similar to hunger-

“Helena,” and she snapped back to reality, Tomas’ fingers curled tight around her wrist, “we have a beast to catch, yes?.”

She nodded, the trail lost amid the thrum of city life. “It’s still here, it has… returned.” He turned away in a huff, leading her deeper and she growled, frustrated, her beast lost amidst the swarm of a million blundering souls.

* * *

Sarah bucked as Beth slammed her face first into the metal dumpster, handcuffing her hands behind her. She was angry, hissed, "Didn't they  teach you ? Didn't they teach you the  fucking rules ?"

Beth was strong, stronger than Saah expected, strong enough to keep Sarah from snapping away, "What  rules ? Let me go you bloody-"

"Rules,  Ripper , the rules! You broke them, all of them , do you know what you've done, what you  could have done? You could have doomed us all, hell after Katja, how long did you think you'd last?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, yeah?" Sarah roared, "I didn't  do anything, I don't remember, I  can't remember," her voice broke as Beth dragged her to a car, opening the trunk and shoving Sarah inside. Her head slammed against the floor, spinning her vision and dulling her senses. Beth Childs shut the trunk, and the last think Sarah saw before darkness were her eyes: thoughtful, questioning.

Sarah kicked hard, beating a rhythm into the early morning air. With each bang she yelled out, "Let, me, go, you, psycho!" She growled in frustration, the sound thundering in the back of her throat, hoping the cop could hear her. The ride was long however, and Sarah could feel the sun rising, the temperature climbing with it, almost unbearable. Weariness overtook her, weighting her eyelids and clouding her mind. 

She felt the car slow, curve, felt the heat cool a bit as it finally ground to a halt. Sarah kicked again, shouting, "I know you stopped, now let, me, the, fuck, _out_!" 

Time slogged along, itching in her stomach and numbing her fingers, the tingling sensation slowly moving up her cuffed wrists. She heard footsteps, the trunk opened and Sarah was pulled out, struggling and stumbling in the harsh light. Garage. Was she in a garage? Yes she was. Beth pulled her toward a hallway, muttering, "Morning Ripper, hope you enjoyed the trip." Beth pulled her past large grey doors, their heavy locks shone dully in the light. Sarah was still weary from lack of sleep, the rough trip churning the remaining contents of her stomach, bile rising in her throat. Beth pulled her up a flight of stairs, and Sarah staggered to keep up, the metal biting into her wrists.

"What kind of cop are you anyway? Aren't you supposed to be taking me for fingerprints or some shit?"

"You know that's not possible."

"What the shit? What the hell am I supposed to  know ? And who the hell is we? And bloody hell-"

Beth stopped, looked at her, "You don't know," she continued up the stairs, laughing with a dark, gritty tone, "you  don't know . That's fucking fantastic." She pushed Sarah into a room, shoving her down on a chair. She adjusted the handcuffs, quickly attaching them to the armrest, effectively pinning Sarah to the chair. "Don't move. We'll decide how true your story is." She moved to exit the room, her hand turning quickly on the doorknob.

Sarah let out a low growl, pulling at the cuff. It was solid, police quality. No luck. She scanned the room, eyes widening at the sight of what appeared to be a well equipped  craft room .  Sarah didn't understand,  Beth was a cop, a cop yeah? Cops don't kidnap and force you into the back of their cars only to take you to some home where the rugs color coordinate with the cusions. 

Her observations were interrupted by a hysterical shriek outside the door. She leaned into it, trying to discern what was being said.

_"You brought her here?!"_

_“Ali-”_

_"To my home?"_

_“It’ll be fi-”_

_"What were you thinking?"_

_“Don’t worry-”_

_"In broad daylight?"_

The door banged open, causing Sarah to snap backward in surprise. A woman whirled in, all quick movements and wild thoughts. "Toast and lemonade, Beth, what if someone had  seen her? What if  my kids had seen her?!"

"Alison.  _Alison_ ," Beth stretched out a hand to calm her, "Hey it's fine, you're kids are at school and you're sending them to your mothers tonight right?" This elicited a terse nod, her bangs twitching slightly, "So it's okay."

The woman, Alison, continued to pace, back ramrod straight as she spoke, "I still can't believe you brought a  serial killer  to my house! For all we know she's planning out untimely demises right now and, I mean," she let out a sharp sigh, "what if  someone found out ? I'd be  blacklisted , Beth, I'd never host the monthly potluck again! And-"

"You know I can hear you, yeah?" Sarah drawled, rattling her cuff, "the fuck is goin' on anyway? You mind telling me?"

Beth put a hand up to Alison's protests, leaned in close to Sarah and stared at her. "You  really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Did your family never tell you?"

"I don't have a family."

Beth sighed, "Because you-"

"I just don't yeah? Mind moving on?"

"I don't trust her," Alison pulled Beth away from Sarah, "why should we tell her anything? Why should we believe she doesn't know?"

"Oi!" Sarah piped up, "know what?!"

"She has a right, Ali, we both know it can be hell okay? Also if she knew she'd have admitted, those  _kinds_ aren't exactly subtle. Or humble. You can’t fake this brand of cluelessness."

"I don't know what you're bloody goin' on about, but shit, kinda tied up here?" Sarah jerked the cuff in an attempt to get their attention. 

Alison turned toward her, hands flying up in exasperation, "You want the truth? You've been killing for eleven years because you're a monster, we're all monsters and I just-" she reached under the craft table, pulling out a bottle of wine and pouring herself a glass, "You black out every month and  eat people, I mean-"

"Alison, just, that’s not exactly helpful, and-" Beth gently pushed Alison out the door, and as it closed Sarah caught a glimpse of a vacuum cleaner emerging, the violent rumble jumping to life with a sputter. Beth closed the door, dimming the sound,  "Sorry about that, Sarah, right?"

Sarah nodded mutely, her nausea roaring back in full force and the next moment she had leaned over, vomiting all over the floor of Alison's well organized crafting room.

* * *

The bar was noisy, crowded, the presence of so many irritated Helena’s stomach and churned her hunger. Tomas headed to the bathroom as she sat in a corner booth, eyes fixed onto the television. The words scrolled across the screen and Helena listened only partially, until she heard them mention the beast. Her ears pricked up at the mention and she leaned forward, eyes now boring into the screen, into the reporter who now spoke so flippantly about _her_ beast. She didn’t like it, them, she didn't like them naming her beast; they didn’t- they couldn’t understand, they didn’t  deserve . Her fingers wanted to claw at the table in anger, the beast was hers and hers alone, it wasn’t this “Ripper” they kept speaking of, no. Helena knew the beast down to her bones, could feel it’s thrumming heartbeats under her skin, right opposite of where her heart should be.

The reporter’s mouth moved in a rhythm,  _Ripper Ripper Ripper_ , and with each incantation Helena wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, her beast was so much more. 

“Anything to eat?”

She looked up, the waiter standing impatiently with pad and paper, tap tapping into it as he looked up at her. Helena opened her mouth to speak, jello perhaps, or maybe a white russian, but the man’s eyes widened, almost in fright.

“What happened to you?” He broke into a grin, incredulous, his voice settling on each word like a hammer, “And the hair! I mean, it looks cool, I  guess , wow, but I do have to ask, why?”

Helena merely looked at him, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she watched him shuffle awkwardly to her silence. “I look like an angel,” she replied finally, lips quirking up into a smile as he tried to reclaim his demeanor, “I have never seen you before.”

He was just forming an awkward reply, words tumbling out like rocks dislodged from a lonely riverbank as Tomas returned, turned to the man with a snarl. “We won't be eating here.”

Helena grinned back at him, the waiter’s mouth was slightly agape as she flicked her tongue out at him, the confusion in his eyes causing her chest to twitch with laughter.

* * *

Beth sighed, pulled up a chair to awkwardly pat Sarah on the back, muttering about a  Cosima , and how she was apparently  better at this . "It's usually genetic, that's why I asked about family," she paused again, sighed, "Ali can be a bit, overzealous, we're not monsters perse, uh more like werewolves."

"You have got to be shitting me," Sarah coughed, pushed down the nausea.

"Nope. I get you can't remember, but think. There's a reason they used to think the Ripper’s kills were just random animal attacks." Beth reached around, unlocking the handcuffs, "Sorry about that. Just precautions you know?  There are some were who kill on purpose, they tend to be super vicious even when not shifted."

Sarah barely heard her, her mind spinning, trying in vain to process the information -  _I killed, that means it was me, no more illusions, no more lying, fuck, that means I ate_ \- she coughed again, the memory of ecstasy, pleasure, pulsing against her consciousness, making her want to vomit even more. 

  
  


"Hey I get it. We both learned early on, but it was still hard. I can't imagine what it must be for you..." Beth stood up, looked about with a rather lost expression on her face before sitting down again, awkwardly trying to reassure the trembling mass of leather jacket that was hunched on the chair. 

"It's just we have rules, you know? The community is pretty tight knit, except for the 'wild ones' - those are the ones who kill on purpose - and we really need to stay on the down low," Beth tapped on Sarah's shoulder, pointing to the flight of stairs that had led up from the garage, "those rooms we passed? Soundproof. If we can't find a safe place for a shift. Alison sends her kids to sleepovers or her mother's house, she gets us fresh meat from the butcher so we don't go crazy from hunger. If you don't feed - that means fresh blood - weird stuff happens to your brain."

"How- how do you know? When, when it's going to happen?"

Beth answered, "Usually once a month, you have to do it at least once a month to prevent the wolf from getting built up too much and go totally vicious, that's probably what happened to you, if you try hard enough you can shift more often, by that frame of mind is not exactly, well,  _healthy_ for the community," she paused, relieved that the woman in front of her seemed to calming down a bit, "you should be fine for a while, okay? You're one of us. That means we'll take care of you. But stay with us, please. The media's gonna go wild at the Ripper's return."

"Fine," Sarah's voice roughened, "jus' don't make me stay with soccer mom over there."

Beth whispered back, "I don't think that's going to be an issue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...... so that's that. Updates will be happening, just slower 'cause school. Hope it's coherent.


End file.
